AN: Okay, just something in between 423 and 424.
A big hand to JaKiwi, who made this much better. *sigh* I seriously lack ability in the emotional department. Having a second opinion was excellent.
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.
Slowly, ever so slowly, his heart is being grounded into tiny pieces by the people closest to his him. He doesn't do anything do about it because he knows it's for the best, the common good, the safety of his home, the balance of the two worlds that were never meant to clash (reminds him of them).
(I want to curse you, for breaking me, shattering me, tossing me aside like everything else, out with the unnecessary emotions and you didn't even know-)
He tries to move on along with his classmates. (How do you move on from something like that?)
Still hurts like hell anyway.
He remembers the times he spent, fighting together with his friends, the time spent helping each other out of sticky situations (understatement of the century, he thinks).
He can't do that anymore.
He's stuck on the sidelines of a silent battle he can't even see, though he's very familiar with the continuous cycle that goes around. It starts when one student suddenly races out of class, and before the teacher can even speak Ishida goes "The bathroom!" He knows it's over when Ishida returns with makeshift bandages around his thin body. "I fell down the stairs," he explains. Ichigo concludes he's either making better excuses or the teacher can't be bothered to ask anymore.
Ichigo remembers a time when he was the one in that position. That time has passed.
Apathy. The warrior has lost his sword. He's lost his purpose. What can he do? He stops caring about his new life, once seeming so attractive to him: normal. Normal isn't so nice when it's forced on you, instead of you having a truly free choice in the matter.
Helplessness. He hates the feeling of it, of not being able to do anything. He found that out when his mother left him, her soul devoured, never to return. He felt better when she arrived. She gave him power to protect his family, his friends, everything important to him. (Even if it came with a price on her behalf.)
Now the privilege (right?) is gone, and the cycle has continued to flow without him. That feeling of not belonging is back again.
(It hurts him when Karin comes back home with a few unusual injuries, whenever he arrives in a room and he notices his friend's faces fall and their mouths shut. All he can do is to pretend to not notice.)
The guilt gnaws at his bones every time his former comrade runs out, and sometimes the pity in his other friends' eyes etches his scowl deeper into his face. So when the teacher suddenly asks with concern:
"Are you alright, Kurosaki?" He stays sitting there slouched with his head down, like nothing happened.
"...I'm fine, sensei." He's not.
(That's all he can say.)
The standard is gone, replaced.
He's been left out of the cycle once again, like a blind man on the sidewalk. (He wonders where they are, what's happening, are they hurt? God, this is frustrating-)
So he waits there, seeing Ishida scurry out the classroom, waiting for the Quincy to return, knowing that some day he might never come back.
"..."
And he won't even know.
AN: Well, I'll admit, that was a good release. See, because of legal issues, (and the teacher being right there when discussing sneaking off campus,) I basically had to stay behind and watch my friends walking away and laughing together.
R and R?